


Deeply Scarred

by poetssoul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Depressed!Sam, Hospital scene, M/M, Self Harm, caretaker!Gadreel, caretaker!sam, depressed!Gadreel, healing process, heart to heart, human!Gadreel, hurt!gadreel, s9ep23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetssoul/pseuds/poetssoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by the ending of Stage Fright (an episode of Dollhouse where Tahmoh's character Paul lies in a hospital bed) and a theory of thehinkypanda's about Gadreel's grace burning out instead of dying after he sacrificed himself for Castiel.</p></blockquote>





	Deeply Scarred

Fading in and out of consciousness, all I was awoken to at first was the faint melodic beep of a machine only familiar to me when I first came to the older brother of my lover at the answer of a prayer received. Pain surged through the upper half of my torso when weight was shifted even in the lightest of movements executed, threatening to knock me back out as a welcomed escape from it all until a voice joined in nearly masked out by the louder object in the room. "Please snap out of it, Gadreel." the agony doubled as a knife embedded in my vessel's heart at the pleaded request. How could I resist? Somehow, strength reaches from the farthest of places and reaches even the ones who deserve to perish such ways so similar, able to revive what little of a soul left within.

"Sam..." I barely managed to have said, a wince followed like a darkened shadow. Unsure if he had heard or not, a finger was moved against the softened skin unmarked by callouses from the tireless amount of work. As the contact was recognize, a sharped gasp was emitted while the rest of his body stilled for a moment of frozen time until head rose from its bowed position, met with eyes glazed over with tears waiting to be shed.

You're awake!" he stated the obvious, expected in this certain situation. 

"Indeed, I am." I gave just before a cough erupted, a drip of blood slithering in a crimson line down from the corner of my mouth onto the edge of my chin, continued on its path as it made a stain on the gown, a pink spot now noticeable, if only subtly.

"Careful." His fingers unlaced from mine as a cloth was retrieved to clean the mess wiped ever so gently to remove it from the skin on my face. As the task was completed, a set of lips replaced the fabric, lingering for as long as the contact could be stood. 

"Why are we here?"

"Because that's what people do when someone they care about is hurt, especially in your condition."

"I can heal myself though."

"Not anymore. Your grace burnt out when you self-sacrificed in order to help Cas out of the jail cell you both were in." Sam's voice lowered, but it couldn't mask what hurt he felt having to give such news.

I nodded a little, able to remember what had occurred while in Heaven. "Did Castiel succeed, or was my attempt in vain?"

"He was able to overthrow Metatron."

"I am glad to hear of it." I gave, a faint smile upon my mouth. "Just one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why am I clothed in this garment? And where is my jacket?"

"That's two questions, Gad." he informed lightly, a slight laugh in his speech. "Anyway, it's required to be worn by patients."

"You only answered one of them."

"I don't have to answer the other." he remarked as the familiar feel of the leather jacket returned to my shoulders once it was draped over them. "I kept it warm for you."

The heat was welcomed as opposed to the chill felt all around the room so much that the injuries were forgotten, felt again only when I reached for the sleeves to pull it closer, a slight shout given at the same moment the hem was dropped back onto the threadbare blanket that covered my lap, blinded by the wave that bulldozed through my very being.

"Try not to move so much." he suggested gently, the blackened material shifted as I was helped in leaning forward and laid down again, my sides cocooned as if I were a swaddled baby in a crib.

"Sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." he reassured once he noticed the attempts to have sleep fought off. Taking the suggestion to heart, the lids stayed closed even while the rest required was hard to come by at first, though it became easier to obtain when an added weight joined me on the cot. Whether it was permitted or not, it did not matter to either of us as another kiss was planted on my temple just before it was replaced with his forehead pressed against, the tickle of his elongated hair ignored for once.

* * *

Just as he had promised, the younger Winchester was present when I woke up as the first thing seen, still affected by whatever emotion clouded his true self.

"I thought you'd never wake up." he greeted, a smile forced, a simple gesture taken whether truly genuine or not. "The doctor just came by to check on you."

"Oh? And what did they say about my condition?"

"Well, you might still be in pain, but you'll be able to come back home to the bunker today."

The news lightened my spirits despite everything else that happened up to this point in time as he went to get a wheelchair after it had been explained that that was also a mandatory part of being here, helped into the seat slowly so as not to jar the area in the healing process still. Rolled out into the front of the parking lot, the process was repeated in order for me to be put into the passenger seat of the Impala and buckled in.

"Sam?" I dared to question once we had left for home. 

"Yes, Gadreel?"

"Where is Dean?" The moment it was uttered tension was sensed as it tightened around the small cab of the vehicle we were in. 

"...Dean was killed by Metatron." 

"How?"

"He was stabbed through the heart with an angel blade." he answered bluntly.

"Oh... I am sorry to hear that."

"He sliced you with the First Blade, and you're sorry?"

"Of course," I replied," He meant a lot to you, and that means something to me."

For the rest of the ride no sound could be heard making the ride more awkward than preferred. At some intervals I gasped at the wounds that hurt when a turn was made too suddenly or at simple fact that the lungs within this mortal vessel remembered how to work after being out of commission for such an extended length, the awed speculation simple job the pair of organs did was enough to distract from the human that would not talk anymore. It burdened more than I liked to admit, being partnered with him just as alike as the pumps that allowed air in, strained in being impaired we the other went off to do what needed to be done rather than wait to do it together. It was an admired trait that captivated, though it scared me all the same to consider that I chained him in a way that kept him from duties called to attention. 

Caught in my reverie and surrounded by the worry generated from such thinking, I was startled into reality by a cleared throat before the owner of the action exited and circled around the hood to come to the door I leaned against; opened. Caught in the only set of arms I longer for constantly, I was carried as we descended down into the depths of the underground dwelling the brothers had shared. Once the bottom was reached, I expected to be placed onto the couch since I had not been given a designated living quarter even though I had been by this man's side for quite some time, my expectations being exceeded by being taken farther down the hall than when I was rescued from the elder person no longer around. Curiosity shone in my eyes as I looked up, wanting an answer once the door to Sam's room had been opened and the threshold had been crossed over. 

"You deserve more comfort while you recuperate from your injury," he answered as the question died on my lips as a ghosted whisper. Tucked under the plush bedspread, the edge of the pain ebbed dully against the protection offered and taken without hesitation. "I'll be right back." he warned before I was left alone with only thoughts that drowned out everything else, unable to be silenced no matter how many attempts were tried. I should not have been saved, it is a decided truth uncovered while the physical scars were forgotten as an added reminder to the fact that I would never be freed entirely, but instead kept alive for torture; emotions numbed to such a notion.

Again he joined me in the confines borrowed, though I did not jump at the opportunity for company as often was expected, "Go away."

"I will do no such thing." he retaliated, sitting on the edge of the bed that I was not taking up.

Refusing to look at him, my face buried into the pillow that had been propped under my neck earlier, choosing cowardice rather than bravery.

"You need to eat something."

"I don't want to."

"I'm not going to let you starve, or for that matter, die."

"That's exactly what I want!" I yelled into the covered object, loud enough for it to be heard despite there being no echo. 

"I've already lost one person I cared about, and I will not lose another." he gave back in an iced tone.

In that instance, the inner turmoil stored came loose, unable to be stopped as moistened cheeks became drowned in the downpour regardless of the ache it left in a chest still in need of repair. Wracked with guilt over how I acted, I refused to look at him, for if it were dared in this state it would only be met with more salted tears. Instead, I kept my eyes closed, holding on tight as the aftermath settled, not noticing a hand brought up to wipe them all away. "It's just all too much." I whispered; defeated.

"I know, baby, I know." he mused while the unoccupied hand stroked at the strands of hair slightly tangled at the base of my neck from neglected care while in the hospital, though it did not bother him whatsoever. "I just want to help you get better." 

"I apologize for how I acted."

"It's okay. I know how hard all of this must be for you, being a human and all."

"Thank you for understanding." I gave, though I still felt at fault for how I lashed out at the one who least deserved it. "I'll eat now, if that's what you want."

"Only if you want to."

"I do." I replied as I struggled to move back into the position I had been in before the outburst, rolled onto my back by a firmed hand before it was taken away to be used in feeding me from a bowl that steamed profusely into the atmosphere, the liquid sucked up slowly into my mouth and swallowed, a routine that went on until finished. Without a moments hesitation, sorrow flitted in on the wing of a dove unnoticed until it roosted in a rafter in the corner of a defenseless mind tormented into such a bleak state unable to be reconciled fully from the drowned depths; a boat torn up by the flotsam and jetsam of reality's rough edges, capsized into the abysmal tide, left stranded.

* * *

Scars never healed, imprinted ghosts that haunted the cemetery of innocence now tainted. The person claimed as my loved one remained loyal to the duty he served by my side no matter how defeated the attempt seemed to be the longer it was dragged out, yet the tethered strands stretched out appeared in the deepened shadows that hid in the hard, harsh lines of crevices created from elongated cynicism dealt personally meant to be kept hidden from a demeanor worn as a shield. 

One morning of the week I was left alone to an absent companion relied upon. Through slowly paced movements, I propped myself up onto an elbow and pushed the weight off of the mattress used in order to have dangled appendages hang from the edge of it placed onto the floor, dependent upon unsteady feet. Facial contortions produced in sheer agony accompanied by sharpened teeth dug into the entrance of the face teamed up for the whole duration of a rescue mission went upon, though worth it nonetheless. Upon entering the kitchen a subtle sound was able to be heard filled with melancholy until it was replaced by the noise of a throat that swallowed some substance, prompting my curiosity to push me further into the room faced with disarray from whom seemed to have everything else in order, marked with unkempt hair and a body malnourished with no sleep gained, the slumped curve unable to be held up; raising more alarm altogether. 

Without a word, I added my presence at the table that barely contained both pairs of elongated legs underneath, complaint held in as I waited for a response of recognition before reaching over to have his palm encased against my own, caught off guard by the wrist exposed marked with etches of thinned pink lines in the healing process, masked over by a familiar sleeve in order to hide it away as if it would never be noticed.

"Sam, why did you do this to yourself?" At first there was no answer, just a shuddered shell of the being known to me since I as called upon in that hospital so very long ago, and entered in order to help prevent the damage received from nearly completed trials. If only I could slip in as easily as it was then in the moment presently in even though he had been tricked into accepting my offered guidance. This time would be different, however difficult it would prove.

"I-I couldn't deal with it any longer."

"With what?" 

"All of it. Taking care of you, Dean dying. Hell, even Castiel restoring Heaven after we won the battle." he answered, obviously flustered as he counted off the reasons. A flinch could not be prevented when my situation had been the first named.

"It is not your battle alone," I started, taking his hand into both of mine, "I am well enough to no longer require you at every single moment of the day, and it is not your fault that your brother is no longer here. You should not take it out on yourself." I tried my best to mask what sharp twinge spread through my ached body, yet it was past the time to stop being dependent on him. The grief, on the other hand, was meant to come unleashed, but in a different matter entirely. I had done so myself in such a negative manner all the same when redemption was sought after being released from the cage stored away in. "I know it will be hard to accept what has happened, and I am here to offer what assistance is needed during." I tried to convince, knowing it would take much longer than any physical damage ever acquired.

"Why would you want to help something pitiful like me?" 

"You are my humanity, angel or not, and if I lose you then I am not so sure that I can continue this life knowing that you are gone from it."

A breath was sucked in sharply at the admission; unnerved. While composure remained as my armor, I went in for the attack that needed to be executed, the liquefied amber in the glass contained on the table close to him for an eased escape accessed, a grunt of protest given only as the contained alcohol was placed within the fold of the hooded garment worn under my jacket while the top layer remained nowhere in sight until my gaze was returned to the man I had sworn fidelity to.

"What protection does my stolen coat give you?" 

"It was the only shield against myself," he muttered," Without it, I doubt I would have stopped at all."

The confession would normally have flattered, if it had been any other way. As of this moment it numbed me to the very core, making it known how we had remained bound, "You saw the worst of my wound when you dragged me to that hospital, I assume?" I asked as my attention had turned to digging up the stash of tea mentioned long before we arrived to this point, taken out from where it hid in a niche in a cupboard. Fumbling with the kettle unearthed as well, I set it on the stove once it was filled in the proper way, letting the hiss whistle through the tension stirred.

"Of course I did," he responded, some emotion fired back," And every morning until you woke up, when the bandages were changed I watched through the whole process, terrified that you would be lost to me like everyone else."

"Do you know how that wound was crafted?" 

"I don't,"he confessed," I tried to ask Cas, but since he's been busy with the angels he hasn't answered."

"The two of us were locked in Heaven's jail, and I had no other option at the time," I began, trying not to falter as it was replayed through my memory, "Castiel tried to convince Hannah to listen, but it would not work, so while they argued I picked up a shard of rubble on the floor and carved the sigil in my chest that the suicide bombers used." I ended, not needing to summarize what happened after to cause the ruined flesh of my vessel.

"Attempted suicide." 

"It was for the right reason, and it won us the war against Metatron."

While he considered what next should be said, I turned my attention to the metal device that hissed and picked it up by the handle with a cloth in between so at not to be burned, poured into a mug that had also been found behind the cabinet door, transferred to sit in front of who it was intended for.

"Why are you telling me this, Gadreel?" he sounded tired.

"In order to sympathize with you." 

"Even if the truth set us further apart?"

"It always sets us free."

"I wouldn't have killed myself."

"I am not saying you would have, I am just giving you someone to relate to when you feel as if you are isolated," a wave of frustration washed over me at having to explain, but it was swallowed by the ocean of a soul that remembered when it had been pitted against everything else, and had been protected by this very male, "I thought it would provide comfort." 

"It does, actually." he informed after a slight pause during which he wrapped his palm around the curved handle, thumb held down on top where it met the rim to sturdy it as the bitter brew was sipped at.

"I meant to return the favor sooner as gratitude for being patched up after I was nearly split in half, but this seems as good a time as any."

"Better late than never." he agreed, another long drink taken out of the beverage.

"I wish I had known prior to this to prevent any of this from happening, but you make a valid point." At least I was able to figure it out in time, I don't think I could have taken you dying. But, that was left unsaid.

Each day was a challenge that included more obstacles that threatened to break both of us into far more pieces than we had already been reduced to, emotions being ruptured at the breaking point when relapses haunted and were all defeated one after the other with the help of the opposite, never failing even when all else faltered from success. It seemed hopeless at some points, but in the end, it was worth going through the purged echoes of evil that had fogged senses previously, all the while being attached to only positive reinforcements which only benefited instead of hindered; unchained from the shortened collar once and for all, though not entirely. The only thing that made the experience worthwhile was doing it alongside someone who could relate to such happenings, a learning experience for each other brought into the mix due to learned coping mechanisms and also lessons taught of how to be blended into the race of humans I was now a part of, grateful to the teacher devoted even at moments when the darkness dimmed the brightness embedded within stolen from the sun itself. There were still lessons to be instilled, of course, but they would come along as many others while we embraced the impacted injuries, carried as reminders of simultaneous suffering that nearly uprooted the twinned tangles dug deep into the earth of two willows deeply scarred.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the ending of Stage Fright (an episode of Dollhouse where Tahmoh's character Paul lies in a hospital bed) and a theory of thehinkypanda's about Gadreel's grace burning out instead of dying after he sacrificed himself for Castiel.


End file.
